It has long seemed plausible to me that some of the most important stories in the Bible are the results of a child’s question posed to a parent. For instance, I suspect that story of Noah’s Ark could be the result of a child who asked a parent, “Where do rainbows come from?” Such antecedents are in no way at odds with the attribution of divine inspiration for such stories. For one thing, the parent could have replied by saying, “Let’s go ask the priest.” But who’s to say that a parent’s response to their child couldn’t be just as divinely inspired? And we have reason to believe that such stories had long oral traditions before they were written down, anyway.
Another such story that may have been the result of a child’s question is the story of the Tower of Babel. I can just hear a child asking her mother, “Why do some people speak different languages from us?”
“Good question,” Mom might have replied, “let’s go ask your grandmother.” And maybe Grandma knew a story that she had learned from her Grandma, who had learned it from hers, etc, etc.
That story begins with a memory that once “the whole earth had one language and the same words.” It was the westward migration of people and the development of the technology of bricks and mortar that enabled the building of cities that provide the background for this story. Coming upon a plain that looked like a good spot for a settlement, the people said to one another, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves….”
The Lord, looking down from heaven took note of this urban development, noting not only the use of bricks and mortar, but also the social and industrial cooperation that was possible since “they have all one language.” Assessing the situation, God determined that “this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.” And so, in the face of this possibility, God did not send lightning from the heavens to destroy the tower; he did not make it rain until the city flooded - he’d sworn not to do that again; he did not cause an earthquake that brought the tower tumbling down; he simply “confused the language of all the earth; and… scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth.”
The story of the Tower of Babel works well as a mythical explanation of where different languages come from, and I suppose that it makes sense to some degree from an anthropological point of view, too. From a theological point of view, however, the story is a little more perplexing, since it makes God look so defensive, as God seems to want to limit the potential of his own creatures and the gifts he gave them; and because God seems threatened by the social cohesion of his people when they are united in their ability and their cause.
If social cohesion and the unity of his people are a problem for God, then I have a lot I need to re-think, and I’d suggest that God does too. Nevertheless, I believe there is wisdom to be found in the story of the Tower of Babel. For, God knows that since we are made in his very own image and likeness, we humans have been given power to accomplish things, even though some of the things we may be able to accomplish may not be so good for us. And if that assertion was true in long-ago, ancient days when this story was first told, it is exponentially true today. It may not literally be true that nothing we propose to do is now impossible for us, but, oh we have come a long way since Babel!
I happen to believe that the story of the Tower of Babel - which I’m sure has been forgotten by many more people than remember it - I happen to believe that its wisdom may be more directly important for our own generation than it was for those who first told it. Those ancient peoples may have shared one language, but we are using large language models to develop astonishing capabilities with Artificial Intelligence. Spend a little time considering the accomplishments of A. I. in just the past few years, and you don’t have to be the Lord looking down from heaven to think to yourself, “this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them.”
The story of the Tower of Babel reminds us that, for reasons God did not disclose to us, God decided that there should be limits on what should be possible for humans. And long ago, God imposed those limits not through disaster and punishment, but through confusion and dis-union, which proved to be sufficient to the task of limiting our human achievements. The implicit warning at the heart of the story of the Tower of Babel is that we humans can accomplish things that may not be so wise or good for us. And this is a warning that is mostly rejected by an overly self-confident modern society that believes it can regulate its way out of such dangers. Having proved unable to regulate either fire or the wheel - both of which have tremendously positive and tremendously negative applications (tanks, for instance, use both) - I’m not sure how we think we will regulate Artificial Intelligence.
None of which was on the minds of the disciples when they gathered together, all in one house, just ten days after Jesus had ascended into heaven. And the reason to bring up the Tower of Babel on the Feast of Pentecost is because the two accounts, from two different ends of the Bible, find nearly perfect counterparts in one another.
Most obviously, the confusion of language that God caused at the Tower of Babel is resolved on the Day of Pentecost, at least for a moment, when the disciples are not only enabled to speak in various languages, but “each one heard them speaking in the native language of each.” This moment of universal comprehension is a decisive and holy reversal of the linguistic confusion of Babel. And what a holy moment it is! For, the united understanding of all the people gathered there comes as a celebration of their diversity, not as a negation of that diversity. Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, as well as visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs - in their own languages they are united in mutual understanding to hear one another speaking about God's deeds of power!
But also on that day, in a countermeasure to the men of Babel who sought to build a tower that would reach up into heaven, the events of Pentecost - the sound of rushing wind, the tongues of fire, and the gift of languages that signals the work of the Holy Spirit - all these represent God reaching down from heaven to touch the earth with a powerful breath. And in this moment, God’s power is shown not to be destructive or vengeful, not confusing or divisive; but clarifying and unifying, and, I think we can assume, joyful!
One of the paradoxes we may have to accept about God is that although time may be nothing to him, since he is surely not bound by our three-dimensional time-space continuum, God nevertheless acts in time, or appears to, as far as we can tell. And God sanctifies time by his actions in it.
Yes, God did a new thing in time in Pentecost. Perhaps he was showing us the truth of our existence as it could be, if only we were not so eager to to transgress whatever boundaries he establishes for us. Perhaps God opened up the boundaries of a different dimension long enough to let the tongues of fire burn brightly but safely, to let the wind rush in, to unscramble the divisions of language and culture that divide us one from another, to see what is possible when we live more fully into the power that God wants us to have, if only we will take that power without trying to be gods ourselves, who desire to worship only ourselves, one another, and our own accomplishments, as if the true and living God in heaven had nothing to do with who we are and what we can do!
On the Feast of Pentecost, it is tempting to try to take a clinical look at the person of the Holy Spirit, and account for the work and the power of the Spirit with an inventory or task sheet. But such a managerial accounting of the work and ministry of the Spirit is foolishness. We can’t even account for the Spirit’s pronouns, let alone the Spirit’s work and power in the world! Rather than wondering if we can describe what it is the Spirit does, perhaps we should flip the question and ask ourselves what the Spirit doesn’t do, if there is any enterprise of God’s in which the Spirit is not involved?
St. Luke reports that on the Day of Pentecost, “all were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, ‘What does this mean?’” What does this mean - this momentary return to a state we can remember from long ago, during which we find ourselves un-confused by one another, united in our speech, and filled with the power of God? What does this mean?
When we look at the events of Pentecost in light of the Tower of Babel, perhaps we see what God’s intentions for us really are, and always have been. The child who went to her grandmother asking why people from different places speak different languages could easily have been led to believe that confusion and dis-union has long been God’s intention for his people: that God prefers things that way, especially since it keeps our human achievements at a safe distance from God’s holy precincts.
But on the Feast of Pentecost, that perspective is challenged, as we consider the possibility that God relents of the confusion and division that he either caused or allowed as civilization expanded westward, and his people scattered across the face of the globe. The anxiety that God is supposed to have expressed so long ago is that nothing would be impossible for us, his creatures. But with the coming of Jesus into the world, a new perspective was given, beginning with his mother, who could not imagine how God would accomplish his loving purposes through her, but who was assured by the angel Gabriel that with God nothing would be impossible.
On Pentecost, as God reaches down from heaven with the breath of his Holy Spirit, he corrects the long-held suspicion that his principle concern is to keep us in our place, by showing us that he remembers what it was like when “the whole earth had one language and the same words.” There was something beautiful about it, God remembers. And there was something wonderful about a people who were un-confused, and united in their ability and their cause.
And, as God sent his people out on a new westward expansion, to bring with them the Gospel of Peace that is proclaimed in the Name of Jesus,, he showed them a vision of that memory, to remind them of the beauty and wonder and possibility that comes when we are united in our ability and our cause. And he made it clear to them that their diversity need not be an impediment to their unity or to that holy cause to preach the Gospel of peace. With the power of the Spirit, they could still be united, even in their great diversity.
Recall what the people had said to themselves as they planned to build a tower on the plain, so long ago: “Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves….”
Let us make a name for ourselves. But with the coming of Jesus we have been given a Name that is above every other Name. And in the power of the Spirit, that Name can remove from us the anxiety that makes us want to be gods ourselves, and worship nothing but ourselves.
And we are reminded that God has not stopped reaching down from heaven to invert the tower we once sought to build, and to bring God’s power to us, so we don’t have to reach up to grab it. And for a moment, we are un-confused, and united in our ability and our cause and the only Name that matters is the Name that brought us here: the Name of Jesus Christ, who is one with the Father and the Holy Spirit, who breathes on us now!
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
The Feast of Pentecost 2023
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
